Unspoken JOHN WATSON'S POV from Empty Hearse
by Wynsom
Summary: (Sherlock BBC 3:1) POV UN-Scenes from The Empty Hearse. What were John's thoughts after he discovered Sherlock was alive? What was Sherlock's after John's rejection? Each successive chapter is a study of their words not spoken, their sentiments not expressed aloud, yet in the end, their actions speak louder than any words... (Faithful to the BBC canon, with some liberties)
1. Chapter 1

**Incredulous and infuriated, John Watson lay on his back, wide awake in bed, staring up through the darkness as Mary lay curled asleep beside him. Her rhythmic breathing, soft and deep, was always a comfort, but this night—having looked the very-much-alive Sherlock Holmes square in the eye, after believing he was dead—John could not be soothed. Instead his swirling thoughts collided in emotional chaos. **

_Two years I grieved!_

_You LET me grieve… Two years! Outwardly, I 'functioned,' following the daily routines at work— all that time mindless and soulless. Up until six months ago, I was still unforgiving; loss and guilt eating away at me, because you were dead, and I didn't stop it._

**Emotions returned to John, as intense as the sandstorms of Afghanistan, blinding, biting, wearing down the will to survive in the burying grit that blocked all light and clarity and vision and hope. Nearly suffocating and emotionally parched, John was directionless in his grief, but Mary had rescued him. Her kindness and tenderness, like tiny sips of water slowly administered to a dehydrated patient, nurtured him. **

**Only in the last six months, since he met Mary, had his desiccated soul felt refreshed.**

**Weary of being emotionally crippled, John allowed himself to feel love again. With Mary by his side, if she would have him, he had a chance to recover fully. Tonight's marriage proposal was—would have been—a tremendous step toward satisfying his unquenched thirst.**

**Then he caught sight of the dead man.**

**_"…like staring at the face of an old friend."_**** The baritone voice coaxed him to look up.**

**In that instant, when he focused on the unmistakable face of Sherlock Holmes, it was like a long drink of water—completely satiating—drowning him.**

**Afraid to cast his eyes away, John was gripped by fear. For so long, the shock of his best friend's horrific fall had tormented him with "ghosts"—tall, look-alike passers-by—compelling him to rush in pursuit, his heart in his throat with hope; but each time it was dashed by the shocked surprise of yet another stranger thinking he was deranged. Three months ago, when he decided to restart his life with Mary, John finally stopped seeing and looking for Sherlock _everywhere_. **

**In _The Landmark_, John's staring became glaring at the "unlooked-for" Sherlock, his turbulent emotions erupted. Stammering as he stood up at the table, John recalled trying to comprehend it all; his heart clamored for control while his fist slammed hard on the tabletop. It was a blur, but something sparked him to react, and he launched into an attack, his passion blindly overtaking his reason. **

_Had I not throttled you, Sherlock, I might have bloody-hell kissed you—damn all the old rumors!_

**Mary stirred, before falling back into her deepest slumber, allowing John to stream his quiet reflections without interruption.**

_NOT DEAD! How many times I hoped for THIS—that the Great Sherlock Holmes survived, even though I couldn't deny what I saw and thought was true. _

**The army doctor heaved a sigh, but didn't wake Mary.**

_I never stopped believing in you, Sherlock, no matter what the world thought. (Coincidentally, the latest reports exonerated you only a few days ago.) I knew the REAL Sherlock Holmes. You weren't a fake! Except, you faked your own death, and I was the REAL idiot, kept in the dark for TWO years! Faked out by the man I most admired, trusted, believed in….!_

**Suffering post-traumatically from the evening, John's rage rose as he remembered** **certain details: his hands around Sherlock's neck could feel the rapid pulse. His assault drew blood. Even in that frenzied moment, he was overjoyed, an internal voice yelling—_corpses don't bleed!_** **Breathing deeply, the former soldier quelled his anger with what only could be described as heart-wrenching relief.**

_Please, God, is it really true? Sherlock lives?_

**No other time, not even during his service as an army doctor, did prayerful words bring such a cathartic flood of mixed sentiments!** **Tears moistened his lashes, and John trembled, unsure if he were laughing or crying.**

_You really are back—whole, intact—NOT an invalid! _

_SO, WHY I AM TERRIBLY FURIOUS?_

**_"Offended," Mary had said as she climbed into bed, ending their banter about Sherlock since they returned home. "Because you weren't his confidante," she had added._**

_Offended? Offended doesn't even begin to describe it, Sherlock. Of course I'm miffed. Who wouldn't be? I HAD BEEN your confidante._

_When we first met, I couldn't help but admire your amazing talent—it's really an extraordinary gift you have of SEEING EVERYTHING, every detail about people. (Funny though. You couldn't see the people, the 'Forest for the Trees' thing. Couldn't really see humanity. I tried to help you see. I tried to let you in, so you could at least SEE me.)_

**Swallowing tears, John turned his head toward the window, dawn would be lighting the pane soon. **

_I bloody well COULD see you, however! I RECOGNIZED the wounded soul, the brilliant loner, hiding your humanity under your awful cloak of smug arrogance. I UNDERSTOOD your deep isolation… it was just like mine... like looking in a mirror. I guess that's why you took me in. We connected. Since retiring from the service, I had become a nobody, unattached. You made me feel like somebody. Danger or no, I felt that, when I was with you, it was where I belonged….._

_On our first case, Sherlock, you had remarked the "frailty of genius is that it needs an audience." That stuck with me. After a while, I was convinced I was the "audience, the frailty of your genius needed." Was I mistaken?_

**John sighed softly, flooded with wave upon wave of memories.**

_Had to be patient with you, and Christ, you taught me to have patience! Eighteen months it nearly took before I was certain you appreciated the value of our friendship. I thought the self-professed sociopath was finally learning that social ties were not a bad thing—that friends protect each other—ironically, those were my last words to you in Bart's lab before I went dashing off to rescue Mrs. Hudson._

_Did you do that on purpose, Sherlock? Was it all part of your plan with your network of conspirators to get me out of the way?_

_Damn you, Sherlock! Why couldn't you trust me? Did you question my loyalty, my integrity?_

**Throwing one arm over his head on the pillow, John couldn't believe Sherlock would doubt him. Sherlock had many times shown that he greatly prized John for his trustworthy character and unswerving loyalty, especially since the friendless, consulting detective had never before found them in anyone else.**

_You didn't clearly answer tonight WHY you faked your death. I was so caught up with finding out how many people were in on this plan—except ME! Okay. Okay, for whatever reason, Mycroft, Molly, and 25 or so "street tramps" were your helpmates on this oh-so-complicated hoax! I don't really get it, but okay, let's say my skill sets were not required. I was NOT an integral component in that particular plan, but **after**… **months after **your pretense of being dead, couldn't you at least have given me one bloody clue? Dunno how you could let me think you were "dead" for two long, horribly difficult years and not contact me in some clever way. _

**_"…I wanted to so many times…"_**

_Bollocks! What an arse! You're the cleverest man in the whole world! You obviously didn't try hard enough, Sherlock. I'm supposed to believe what you said tonight! That you feared I might be indiscreet, "let the cat out of the bag."_

_Now, that's offensive. So, I wasn't good enough? No, not good. Not good, Sherlock! _

_So what went wrong? Did you simply not image the devastating effect your death would have on me …? Do you care that your absence left a terrible hole in my life?_

**Tossing to his side, John closed his eyes and curled his fists under his wet cheek.**

_Of course you wouldn't care. You're Sherlock! Can't let anything interfere: 'the brain's what counts; everything else is "transport!"' Wouldn't be so difficult for you. _

_Just me. I cared too deeply—Hmmmmmm, still do….._

_What was the motivation, then, huh? Where the hell were you all that time? I could hardly listen tonight. What was it you said? Something about Moriarty… had to be stopped! But Moriarty died on the roof too. The "spider" was gone, was the web still out there? _

_How did you do it, Sherlock? How did you survive two years? A man who needed reminders to eat …? When I bowled you over tonight, you seemed physically fit! Were you training? New for you, Sherlock. Tonight, if you wanted, you could've fought back harder and done some damage._

_But you didn't. You didn't fight back. You didn't want to fight back. You didn't want to fight ME._

**In the darkness where no one could see, John Watson smiled despite himself.**

_You could always make me laugh. You still do._

_You were really shaken when I hurled myself at you—you actually looked surprised, upset. Didn't expect me to react like that. I was in such a blind fury—yeah, now I remember—it was that stupid mustache remark! You really went too far!_

_ And the nerve! Bloody hell, you told me tonight… _

**_"…London's in danger from an imminent terrorist attack and I need your help…"_**

_My help you need now? Not for two years ...and suddenly NOW?_

_Did you think we would pick up from where we left off? How could I? You'd gone off a ledge—and Jesus, a few times after, I nearly followed! How close I came to giving it all up—because of you. So you thought time would JUST freeze until the Great Sherlock returned? Maybe, maybe if I had known, I would have been patient, waiting until we would work together again. I would not have felt so hopeless._

_You may think I'm acclimated to violence and the trauma of war, but not completely, especially not the violence of your death. No. That was too much. To survive, I had to move on. Find something or someone to live for—boring to you, obviously. Fortunately, Mary, wonderful Mary Morstan, a Godsend of a woman, the woman I have come to truly love, came along to help me through. (I will propose without interruptions next time.)_

**Unburdening his anger, John felt refreshed, even amused.**

_Hah, hah! Sherlock, your face looked so sheepish tonight, when you realized, after finally getting my attention as that bloody French waiter, that your surprise had backfired. I guess I looked formidable in my shock. It was a shock, tremendous—choking me up. I almost couldn't breathe, like I was drowning. _

**_"… bit mean to spring it on you like that. Could have given you a heart attack. Probably still will… In my defense, it was very funny…"_**

_Funny all right! Nearly gave me a f-king heart attack, Sherlock. How ironic. I die just when you've come back. And I wouldn't come back in two years to upset you. No. I'm not like that. Dead is dead with me._

**It was absurd. John chuckled silently sharing in Sherlock's perverse humor.**

_But you do OWE me an enormous apology, which I'm not quite prepared to accept, yet. That's probably why I didn't react well tonight. I don't recall when I've ever been in such a blind rage…You accused me of OVERREACTING! Noooooo…beg to differ, here. It was a NORMAL reaction for a NORMAL human being who cares deeply about another human being who apparently faked a suicide. (That IS what normal human beings do!) But, my emotions have always been too honest and raw especially when it comes to you._

_I'm not good at explaining this. Since our partnership began in earnest years ago, I've felt defensive about you, protective even. The therapist occasionally mentioned something about "my trust issues, and painful fear of loss since Afghanistan." That I had, in effect, "emotionally transferred my sense of duty, loyalty, and allegiance from the service to you—" _

_I'm no psychiatric expert, but I admit, what we had as a team, you and I, was the strongest commitment I'd ever felt. I had trusted you like no one else!_

_Why? Who knows? Not that I hadn't been warned away from you. Despite what everyone was saying, I found an affinity with you and your addiction to thrills. You got your kicks by risking your life to solve the most challenging cases. Sometimes your were only motivated to prove to yourself that you were clever—why you needed to prove that was anybody's guess. But, it made you very vulnerable at times, and here is the mystery: your vulnerability made me vulnerable. _

_In battle, you must be willing to support the mission and the team. It's inescapable. You become so protective, that others mean more to you than your own life. If they die, you will die. You feel the need to protect each other in any and every situation. _

_Sherlock, you had become my best friend and my deepest responsibility. I had to watch your back, then I would be safe too. I certainly don't know if you ever noticed. Maybe you did. Maybe, you saw my concern when others tried to hurt you. Often I caught you staring at my face and puzzling over my reactions like a kid learning to read for the first time. You're a child, Sherlock, when it comes to emotions._

**Remembering countless instances, John warmed once again to his perplexing friend.**

_Hard to believe, but true. You were picking up social cues, at least from me. I KNOW I am not wrong about that! So maybe you COULD SEE me, see me better than I saw myself. If socially challenged Sherlock could read me, then I must have been very transparent to everyone else!_

_Well, I couldn't expect to hide my horror. Not after what I just witnessed—your leap off the rooftop at St. Bart's. _

_**"… a fake, John…"**_

_I was so obstinate about believing in you, that you were not a fake, maybe I refused to see when you were faking._

**_"…a magic trick…"_**

_Was that it, Sherlock? Were you trying to tell me not to trust the lie of your death? I've gone over and over and over those last words. They were hints, then? When you were on that rooftop, my fears prevented me from understanding. I could not hear your message. I dismissed your words, when the unthinkable happened….And after…after… after the fall, when I rushed to check your pulse, did I miss something? True, I took a bad spill, cyclist hit me. I banged my head hard, later, the docs said I concussed slightly…_

_So, if this "final note" was actually you telling me that the suicide was a fake, the shock and grief made it too hard for me to understand. Pillock! I WAS the idiot you often accused me of being, 'cause I didn't get it._

**More tired than wired now, John felt the loose threads of his understanding weaving more questions than answers. There WAS something more to Sherlock's long absence, but now his mental fatigue from an emotionally draining day tangled his thoughts in knots.**

_So with Moriarty dead, who was so dangerous? What made you so vulnerable that you had to fake your death? This meant you had to withdraw from the London you loved, the consulting work you craved, and yes, even the people you had begun to care about…Were you being watched?… _

_Was I being watched?_

_… It had to be a threat SO DANGEROUS that you didn't want your friend's transparent emotions "letting the cat out of the bag." Guess the real question was: if I discovered you hadn't died, could I have convincingly faked my grief long enough to convince your unseen enemies?_

_Huh? Hmmmm. _**John yawned.**

_Maybe, Sherlock, you knew my real weakness: that I was NOT good enough at faking my feelings when it came to you. _

**Drowsiness blanketed John at last. He snuggled next to Mary. The heated argument with Sherlock, the one that would remain unspoken, was now over. He was feeling cool-headed and relieved, even content. As sleep drifted quickly over the weary man, his last thoughts were vague and disjointed. **

_…Wisest man… good reasons… another_ _chance to explain…, Mary likes you…_


	2. Chapter 2 Sherlock Holmes' POV

Unspoken-_Sherlock Holmes' POV from The Empty Hearse_

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"_**I'll talk him round," she said with great confidence.**_

"_**You will?"**_

"_**Oh, yeah!"**_

**Mary, introduced as Mary Morstan at some point during the evening, finally caught Sherlock's full attention. Who was she? A lovely face **_(others would say)_ **surrounded in black fur collar and cropped blond **_(dyed)_** hair, **_**Claire de la lune**_** the dominant scent…**

**All night, Sherlock had noticed how she mirrored John's body language. When he crossed arms, she crossed hers. He nodded, she nodded. He leaned in, she leaned in. She seemed to grasp innuendo with amazing insights and regularly punctuated John's thoughts with her sympathetic outbursts. As if she thoroughly knew the REAL John Watson.**

**She had been in the way, a mild annoyance, something to ignore, until she spoke those parting words quietly so only Sherlock could hear.**

**In that instant, as Sherlock "deduced" her, there were too many puzzling details emanating at once. **

_Leave it to John to find another complicated person to latch onto. On the surface, she's nicer to him than I, it's obvious. She has many social graces and understands "human nature." She can make him laugh all giggly, at least she had before I drew his attention away with the champagne bottle, after which John completely shut down. They work together, apparently she's a nurse, that's how they met, and she can read me very well, it seems. This trade-off might actually be a serious improvement for John._

_Very distracting!_

**Sherlock shook it off. Before he spent time disassembling her information and reassembling her intimate portrait, he needed to focus on John.**

_John!_

**Sherlock was perplexed as he sat in his chair, with the lights off, letting the darkness envelope him. He had returned to beloved London with the challenge of a high-priority case neatly hand-delivered by his genius brother—Mycroft, the guardian of the British government and keeper of the most classified secrets within the British Secret Service, even the CIA—but all was not right, John was NOT back.**

_What a disastrous reunion that was. Most surprised by the whole turn of events. Had no misgivings upon entering the dining room, until I saw him._

**Catching sight of his old friend seated at the table—oblivious to what was about to happen—Sherlock felt memories of John rush through him with tremendous force. His confidence, like his breath, seemed suddenly sucked away, the assured smirk on his face dissolved, replaced by a more genuine facial expression of apprehension, and Mycroft's warning—ultimately prophetic —echoed.** _**"It's just possible you won't be welcome." **_

**In that moment, Sherlock faltered. The sudden insult of insecurity and fear tempted him to slip away unnoticed. Still with his eyes fixed on John, the true and deep realization that he missed his friend propelled Sherlock to resolve his flight-fright dilemma and continue with his rendezvous. What he needed was a disguise.**

**Distressed by the recollections of what followed, Sherlock shifted in his chair, shook off his fears, and removed Mycroft's imagined ridicule from his mind. He needed to explore the reasons why the evening's events with John went astray.**

_The entrance to the dining room afforded me a good view. Although well dressed, except for the mustache and slight stubble, John was nervous and distracted. My first endeavor to surprise him failed, but when he removed that small box from his inside jacket pocket, played with it, then tucked it away again, I knew my timing could not have been more propitious to intercede before he made a terrible mistake. _

**Sherlock leaned back and reconsidered.**

_Mary may NOT be a terrible mistake._

_However, my strategy to surprise him by unveiling my impromptu, but none-the-less clever, disguise would have worked if John were not so preoccupied with planning a proposal._

"_**Funny thing about a tux…it lends distinction to friends and anonymity to waiters…"**_

_Proposal _interruptus_ did not go very well. _ _Awkward as it was—each of my attempts to bring levity to the moment resulted in John's increased hostility. Don't think the results would have been any better if I had popped out of a cake._

_Mycroft failed (by his own admission) to prepare John. It was the least my brother could have done, especially since it was predominantly Mycroft's plan. How hard would it have been to keep John from harm—or unnecessary social entanglements— until I returned? My brother's disinterest in retaining personal associations is at fault…if Mycroft actually _had_ a friend, a pet, even a goldfish, he would have been more useful ….stayed in touch, something… I don't know… whatever-friends-need-to-have-done while their friends are gone._

**Sherlock rubbed his jaw.** _ Guess I can blame myself for entrusting my affairs with someone even less apt at befriending than I._

**The restless detective snapped shut his eyes to maximize his visual memory, allowing the backs of his lids to replay the scene: **_John was bristling, even more than his mustache. Couldn't he see, the more we argued, the more absurd our dispute about keeping secrets had become? We were shouting at the top of our lungs. Everyone could hear. It was wonderfully ridiculous, immensely enjoyable—how I missed our raillery! Expected him to finally burst out laughing with me—like he used to do—when I teased him. Even Mary seemed amused._

**From the safety of his armchair, Sherlock grasped now: John saw no humor in the situation. **

_Repressing my smile, I reminded him of our shared ventures, luring him back with the "thrill-of-the-chase" speech. Didn't work. That caused the third and last dramatic outburst. John stormed off to hail a cab and called Mary to join him, indicating as clearly as possible that my presence was unbearable. He would not look at me as they drove past._

**Rubbing his nose, Sherlock's ego had sustained the bigger bruise.**

_What have I done? I granted his request. I stopped being dead!_

**Hearing himself, Sherlock sensed an unsettling sound—the sound of his self-centeredness, the egocentric child he was before he met John. Had he regressed while he was away?**

_Clearly, it was necessary._

**Survival required self-preservation. Sherlock was challenged to be most physical and most self-absorbed while submerged in amoral underworld that took him as far as the Serbian prison. He could not practice congeniality and correct social behavior while truant from the **_**John Watson School of Etiquette.**_** Nor was it a surprise to him how easily he relapsed into old behaviors that distanced him from normal society, especially while he was geographically removed from it.**

**With the diversion of dismantling Moriarty's network and the great distance of his travels abroad, Sherlock put all his attachments to London "out of sight and out of mind." More serious work needed his attention. "John" was in a similar, but safe place. Loneliness was disavowed.**

**Two years later he had returned in triumph. Suffering Mycroft's taunting criticism was a small price to pay for this homecoming. It whetted his appetite to rejoin ordinary society wherein the enemies lurked, and where the consulting detective with his faithful soldier by his side could battle again. Such was his great anticipation for the reunion with John that Sherlock was jubilant and heady, never expecting the unimaginable—rejection!**

_Oh, John!_

**Being apart had hurt them both. Sherlock backslid from his humanizing development, dehumanized by the baseness of his campaign to eradicate Moriarty, and John had shut off the world, closed down his sight, and apparently lost his deducing skills when Sherlock was lost to him.**

**As he pondered the complexities of human emotions and friendship, Sherlock admitted how little he understood people. Through the gentle **_**(and sometimes frustrated**_**) counsel of the army doctor, Sherlock found stability and perspective. Like no one else his wise friend guided Sherlock through the confusion of layered social mores that contradicted logic and cold reason. **

**Over time, as their friendship grew,** **Sherlock noticed how they marched like soldiers in synch when the "game was on." For John it was subconscious, or perhaps, old "muscle memory" from his service. He didn't seem aware how easily he fell into step with Sherlock's gait and rhythms. Often Sherlock secretly tested his partner with variations in pace, but John would quickly catch up and match the tempo each time. **

"_**What are you smiling about, Sherlock?"**__**John once asked innocently**__**. **_

"_**Oh, just thinking about patterns," **__**Sherlock had answered after John had adapted five times to the taller man's deliberate modulations in stride. **_

**It was a touching observation of John's subliminal connection that Sherlock valued beyond words—and as with all their profound feelings, was left unspoken. The consulting detective held great stock in John's loyalty and devotion, but doubts from tonight plagued him. **

_Molly, Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson reacted as expected. Well Molly knew, but all the same, she could have been sore at me for prolonging the "holiday," Calming Mrs. Hudson was a little more work than planned, but the outcome was achieved. My flat reopened, my place restored, dust where it belonged, and I am back…_ _but John is not._

_What have I done?_

**Scorn, Sherlock knew well, ridicule, abuse, antagonism, lately even torture…but John's rejection made him afraid. John was his driving force—John's safety was the reason Sherlock pursued his archenemy. John was the one he spoke to in his head and John's voice was the only one Sherlock welcomed hearing. Not willing to replicate Mycroft's aloof genius from Mt. Olympus looking down on mortals, Sherlock preferred to dwell among humankind and assimilate. He loved learning from John.**

**John had taught Sherlock that abusing a friendship was wrong, although teasing was okay. At first, Sherlock had trouble discerning the difference, often combining the two in a form of abusive-teasing, but John had let him know he was crossing the lines of acceptable behavior. Mycroft was always abusive and teasing, the only model Sherlock followed growing up.**

_Was faking one's death an abuse of friendship?_

**At the "death scene," John's voice was distraught and tragic. Recalling John's grief-stricken face—keeping his eyes open in a death stare, Sherlock glimpsed what transpired—made the contemplative Sherlock sitting in the chair close his own eyes with measured sadness and sudden shame.**

_What have I done?_

**At the cemetery, John's grief was palpable, resonating. It took everything in Sherlock's power to turn away, rather than rush forward to reward his dear friend with an instant miracle.**

_I stopped being dead! I thought he would be glad I granted his request. __Was there perhaps a time-limit to how long a friend remains a friend after they are dead? Could my being "dead" for two years have forced John to move on? He was livid tonight! What if he never recovers from his anger? Or worse, he shuns me with cold indifference? Have I lost my one and only friend?_

_What irony! So as not to lose John to an assassin's bullet, I instead lose him through estrangement. Embers die when the flames are not fanned; Is this the heavy cost of caring, about which Mycroft warned? The heartache of deprivation!_

**Loneliness was suddenly an insurmountable mountain Sherlock was not prepared to climb. Fear of it triggered an epiphany! **

_As always, John, you teach me what is right! I must talk to you, not myself, to better understand what went wrong! Now I see. Desolation and loss without hope is intolerable. And I left you hopeless for two years!__ Our bond could not be broken by force, but in my carelessness, has it been dissolved by time? _

_Tonight, I should have explained WHY you were excluded from our plan. Not due to any inadequacies of yours… rather, you were in danger because of me. You can blame my arrogance—which you often did to help me—for incorrectly predicting how long it would take to track down the last of Moriarty's network. What was supposed to be a few months became years. As time went on, I was seized by emotional paralysis. The longer our separation, the more difficult it was becoming to face you with my deceit. So, I let things slide… _

_These past two years, I did not mean to betray your trust. In hindsight, it was possibly the worst thing a person could do to a man with trust issues. Neither Mycroft nor I thoroughly considered or even imagined your suffering. We may impress others with our great intelligence and deductive "powers," but as you are well aware, we are idiots, woefully lacking depth and understanding of human affection. What we did—what I have done—was unforgivable. _

_What I have done…!._

_John, I know you cannot read my mind, and you don't trust yourself enough to understand my heart—which you alone have steadfastly asserted I possessed. You are right. I do have a heart, but the responsibility of yours I do not deserve, not yet._

_My apologies this evening were sincere, but now I understand why you snubbed them as insufficient. I owe you more than apologies. I owe you the SAME fidelity you had shown me. _

_This is what you needed to hear tonight—this is what I failed to say._

**Sherlock grabbed for his mobile, but immediately froze.**

_Not this way. I must be patient and wait. It is your choice now. Except, I have hope! Again you redeem me with your ability to love others — your Mary has given me hope that she will succeed and "talk you round."_


	3. Chapter 3 John's Friendship Demands

_When he arrived at 221B, what was John planning to tell Sherlock? What words were left unspoken by the abduction?_

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**Dr. John Watson was doing his best to listen to his patients. As he nodded, and prodded, and palpated then stated what was right, wrong, or merely a mild condition that would abate with meds, time, or a little of both, Dr. Watson noticed a pattern.**

_"__Boring!"_

**John shook his head clear of the whisper. He admitted he was less enthusiastic than usual today. Lack of sleep, compounded by the shocking resurrection of his dead friend just when he was about to propose to Mary, might have contributed to his lethargy.**

_Sherlock's alive!_

**Again, John shook off the distraction. Despite his early morning protests that he was not going to see Sherlock after work, sparked by Mary's teasing, John really hadn't decided. He couldn't decide. **

**Anger was his strongest argument against a revisit. **

**Giving credence to the adage "actions speak louder than words," John interpreted Sherlock's actions, or lack thereof—to include him in confidence about the faked suicide—as a loud and clear statement. John keenly felt the inequity of their friendship with this deceit and was deeply offended as Mary had suggested. Even more, John had shown his best friend absolute allegiance and trusted him like no one else. Sherlock apparently did not reciprocate. **

_You're not capable. Simple as that! I tried! I give up!_ _It might be best to keep our distance. Dunno! Maybe my standards are too high. Are my expectations that impossible? Can I work with someone incapable of trust—me with my so-called "trust issues?" _

**John shrugged.**

_All the same, I'm very glad you're back. _["Glad" was an understatement, an inner voice acknowledged.]_ Public opinion once again loves you, Sherlock, and you will be able to pursue case after case without me, so be it. _

**The good doctor's patient case load was dreary: undescended testicle, thrush, piles ….What John needed to help him focus—and keep nagging "Sherlock thoughts" at bay—was an extraordinary medical challenge, a case that would make him feel purposeful, a true test of his medical acumen. **

**As a dedicated physician with a commendable reputation, John cared for and about his patients who sought his medical expertise. Nor did he want his patients to suffer unduly, however, sometimes, maybe more often than he wanted to admit, he craved something more_…dramatic..._**

_Like Sherlock craved fascinating crimes…_

_Wait, wha? Whoa! _**John swiveled his office chair and pushed away from his desktop. **

_No! I'm not going to get pulled in. No! I have a life, a woman I love, and a normal job. I'm helping people in real and significant ways. No! Not going to chase after an insufferably clever man on intriguing capers of cloak and dagger and all manners of stuff, no matter how much the fate of the world might hang in the balance. Not again, no!_

**John tugged on his mustache—but felt instead his smooth upper lip.**

_Have I already been pulled in?_

**Today seemed a little off, slow, unimpressive. When he would look at Mary beseechingly, she would give him a Cheshire smile, and send in the next tedious case. He almost suspected she was doing it on purpose. **

_But why would she? Nah! These patients were scheduled days, maybe even weeks, ago. She helps with the rotation by sending patients to the next available doctor…Hmmm!_

**At the end of the day, his last patient was an old man who owned a local shop, long white hair spilling to his shoulders from beneath a knit cap, a musty smell from his clothes he'd likely acquired at a junk shop. The dark shades were a bit much. There was a sense of the preposterous about him, John noted as he nodded and listened to the burring accent and booming voice more fit for a stage performance.**

**The longer the fellow talked about his absurd book, magazine and dvd collections, the more John grew suspicious. **

_Sherlock?_

**Whether with sleight-of-hand, diversionary tricks, or ingenious disguises, Sherlock was a master at infiltrating the defenses of his acquaintances and foes alike, knowing precisely how to work their gullibility for his purposes. More than a few times, John fell for the masquerade, proving how gullible he was when compared to his brilliant friend. Feeling embarrassed and quite bummed, John had learned to become thick-skinned when Sherlock surprised him with yet another disguise. Oddly, Sherlock didn't seem to think any less of John for not discovering his identity until the _GREAT REVEAL_. Rather like a child in costume, his eyes bright with pure delight, Sherlock always found it hilarious. **

_Like the French waiter act! _

**Last night, John was not thick-skinned enough for the shocking surprise. He was still having trouble processing Sherlock's revelation without ****anger simmering just below the surface**.

_FAKING your own suicide—was NOT FUNNY! It was beyond cruel. It was heartless!_

**The problem was John knew Sherlock had a heart. **

_It just doesn't make sense. Why would Sherlock have dismissed our friendship so carelessly. Look here! He's up to his old tricks again, posing as this ridiculous man, to extort my forgiveness in this crazy way. Wha! Take me for a fool?_

**John just couldn't hold back.** **"Jesus, Sherlock!"**

**"Huh?"**

**"What do you want? Have you come to torment me?" The ensuing scuffle was unprofessional, awkward, and loud. When Mary opened the door, John was making profuse apologies to the legitimately strange man.**

**"It's fine!" John's voice squeaked with mortification in full bloom on his cheeks.**

**The blunder with the old man was pivotal in John's decision. Just as he found it difficult to get on with his life when Sherlock died, John could not get on with his life now that Sherlock lived. Not until they and their differences were reconciled one way or another.**

**Mary's encouragement in a warm kiss sealed his decision. After work, John's determined steps brought him to 221B , where he paused.**

_Sherlock, you still haunt me! But I won't let you ruin me anymore. You either accept my terms or our friendship ends. That's it. You can't go around breaking people's hearts and thinking that your absurd wink and bland apology is enough. No! It's not enough, mate! I wanted a real friend. You were it. You were what I needed in my life. I wanted you to be my friend, for reasons I can't explain. Except, despite what people said, I saw that you were a real, caring person, and you just needed a little guidance from a real friend. _

_Most importantly, you wanted it too._

_So, you have a difficult time understanding human nature. (What kind of childhood you and Mycroft had, I will never know!) I believe, at least for you, there is hope. Nearly four years ago, when you let me in, I had seen a man I most admired and respected. You, yes you, turned my life around. You were the only one! _

_What's more, you and I both knew we're good for each other. _

_Are we still? Dunno. _

_So these are my terms, huh? Our friendship must be mutual for me to continue. It hurts me too much otherwise. And don't try giving me lip service or fake it . No, you have to show me. It has to come from your heart. Can't think of any instances, right now, but I'll know when I see it. _

_Maybe I am asking too much from a person who borders on a nonsocial spectrum—you call it sociopathic. I am not convinced. You masquerade as a High Functioning Sociopath. It's your best disguise so far. You've convinced everyone and yourself you are one, but social quirks aside, you actually care about others. Your fixation on things is so intense, I wonder if there was a childhood incident or loss that made you give up on sentiments so as not to get hurt again?_

_Anyway, I think you are redeemable—just like you redeemed me. _

_However, let me not forget the reason I am here. It took two years to close the wound you left in my life. I don't know if I can survive another hit like that. So, if you can't genuinely understand that about me, then Sherlock, you'll have to find another assistant to carry on…simple!_

**John felt choked up, but resolved, as he squinted back tears and stared at the black lacquered door with the heavy brass hardware. **

_There, enough said! Will you let me in?_

**Gazing from the sidewalk at the numbers, John wondered if the door would swing open on cue miraculously. It remained shut. **

_Oh, well… already got one miracle…_

**John would have to make the first move. He would have to open the door and meet his old friend face-to-face. John also knew that whatever conversation they were about to share would have no resemblance to the conversation he just had in his head. Although ending their friendship was not John's intention, it ultimately would be up to Sherlock, whose actions would have to speak louder than any spoken or unspoken words.**

**Lingering on the sidewalk, John exhaled, re-imagining in that instant the reunion as it should have been: two friends smiling, thumping each other on the back, joyful hugs, tears of relief, and the consolidation of a partnership that could never die.**

**This celebratory imagine was momentarily jostled by a careless stranger who knocked into John without an apology.**

**"'SCuse you!"**


	4. Chapter 4 Sherlock Shows Signs

**Sherlock Showing Signs**

_ 00000000000000000000000000000000000000_

_Had time run out?_

**A deafening roar in his ears drove thoughts from the calculating mind. On instinct, Sherlock leaped off the motorbike and headed to the bonfire.**

**"****Move! Move!"**

**Yelling John's name, he shoved through the pulsing crowd. Mary was not far behind.  
**

**Fire licked the outer planks with seductive fury, but the fury of the desperate man searching for his trapped friend was greater. Heat and flame yielded to Sherlock's persistence until he felt the limb of a man. "John!" he shouted again, and disappeared into the heart of the burning pile, digging for the person buried within. Seconds later he emerged dragging an unconscious man free. **

_John! John?_

**With his heart pounding loudly, Sherlock could hear nothing, except a voice of frightening uncertainty: **_Am I wrong? Is it John?_

**Sherlock gently turn over the unresponsive victim. Flickering doubts were extinguished. "John!" **

_Can you hear me?_

**"****John!" Panic gripped his heart. John lay inert, eyes closed, forehead streaked with dried blood. Softly, Sherlock patted his friend's face.**

**John responded with a roll of his head. His eyes flitted momentarily, heavy lids opened, struggled, then shut, but not before John's gaze locked on the worried face of his rescuer with full recognition.**

**Floodgates of relief washed over Sherlock. Sounds rushed back all at once. He could now hear Mary's anxious voice beside him as she doted over John, along with the piercing shrieks from the startled bystanders, and sirens wailing.**

_Just in time!_

**000000000000000000000000**

**While sparks rose like fireflies in the night air, the consulting detective and the fiancée watched over their mutual charge until the medical team arrived. But only the detective yielded to let the paramedics through. Undaunted, the fiancée held her ground, fortified by her medical expertise, to ensure John would be treated correctly. Sherlock listened with admiration as Mary proficiently informed the responders at the scene.**

_Loyalty…devotion…commitment… _**Perceptions wafted toward him. Sherlock observed how Mary Morstan protected the man she …**

_LOVED!_

_I see, Mary. That is how it is done. Good for you, John._

**Smoke lingered in Sherlock's hair; the smell of burning wood tickled his nose; gloves had protected his hands, and at first glance, neither flesh no leather suffered real damage from the flames.**

_Did John fare so well?_

**Roaring flames continued devouring the wood pile and the effigy atop, yet for many Guy Fawkes celebrants the scheduled entertainment lost its luster in the light of a near tragedy. Onlookers drifted with curiosity and horror toward the spectacle that would surely enliven their traditions with a great story for years to come: The year they pulled a live man from the bonfire!**

_A LIVE man, thankfully!_

**By now, an oxygen mask covered John's face as he lay on a stretcher. The paramedics had made a thorough check with Mary's approval and rendered reassurances that "the patient would likely see a full recovery." The head wound was slight, scratches from the wood pile mostly. Grogginess, assumed to be from some anesthesia, still affected voluntary movements, for which the injured man would be bussed to hospital for examination and evaluation.**

**John was in good hands, especially with Mary.**

**Immediately shoving his relief aside, Sherlock decided his skills were more suited to inspecting the area than playing nursemaid to his injured friend. He wandered away pondering the critical issues. **

_Why AND Who? Ruling out Moriarty's network, why would John have been targeted now? Why kill John?__Who sent Mary clues to rescue him? Unless, John's death was the not desired outcome. _

**Inspection was hindered by introspection as insistent emotions sidetracked his thoughts. **_Too close! Almost … lost him! John would have died if I had not guessed right and arrived in time!_

**An odd tingling caused Sherlock to check his hands; they were trembling.**

_Shock? Emotional shock! A strong physiological reaction…?_

**On his first day back, it had become painfully obvious to the champion of deduction, the renowned "Sherlock Holmes," that time had NOT stopped while he was submerged in the underworld. Since he'd been gone, the London he knew had "morphed." The famous "hat detective" felt unsteady as he attempted to acclimate himself to the city and the people that had continued to progress, while he still clung to old memories, like a child clings to the string of a balloon that has lofted free and away. **

**After John's reaction last night, Sherlock contemplated whether his should detach and let his affections float away as well.**

**Yet, Mary's appeal for help prompted Sherlock to react without hesitation. By comparison, the wide array of stimuli that pumped Sherlock's adrenals and sharpened his responses to threats of all sorts when routing out Moriarty's network was nothing like this. His trembling hands were a strong sign of how important John still was to him, an attachment to John that hadn't slipped through his fingers.**

_These shockwaves are sentiments … because, because…. _**Astonished ****by the feelings, Sherlock allowed their flow**_…__because I was terrified about losing John! Hmmm,…may have already lost him … to …Mary Morstan: She's clever, resourceful, astute, nerves of steel—obviously loving! Can't fault her for seeing his value._

_John, it is clear you have found a better companion…_

**Sherlock closed his eyes with regret. Something deep within him felt as if it were breaking.**

_How does one mend this fracture? I'm afraid only you can heal me. You know my methods, John. My motives are not to demonstrate my cleverness to others as much as to appease my abnormal addiction to solve the unsolvable._

_But solving the problems created by Moriarty's dilemma forced me to be __**better **__than my addiction. No longer self-absorbed, I had to think of others. I had to fake my suicide to save Mrs. Hudson, D.I. Lestrade—whom Moriarty threatened to kill—and you most of all. From you I had learned self-sacrifice. I was being self-less when I gave up the life I had here, the partnerships with Scotland Yard and Lestrade, and your redeeming friendship. I thought if you knew, you would have been proud of me for protecting my friends._

_But how would you know? How could you know? From your point of view, I had given up in shame and done the ultimately selfish thing in a moment of emotional weakness—committed suicide._

_And still, not only did you defend me, you believed in me!_

**Sherlock shook his head, bewildered by John's great loyalty.**

_Is it too late to show you that I value you too?_

**He glanced toward the surreal scene made more eerie by the swirling red lights of the emergency vehicles.**

_How do I show you? _

**Tenderly rubbing his hands, Mary knelt beside John who reclined on a stretcher; yet even from yards away where Sherlock stood, the injured man exhibited improved movement in his head and arms. It was a sure sign that the John Watson he knew, the friend he may have lost, still had fight in him. Sherlock teased a wry smile from his lips and shrugged in resignation.**

_Look how Mary does it. She does not hurt you by abandoning you. She shows her loyalty by staying with you! That is how it is done, John,…I'm pleased for you…and Mary. _

_Must do the same. Must show you that I can and will be there for you, not just when it suits me, but always...!_

**This triggered a memory.**

_You were coming to see me! That's what Mary said to me as the ambulance pulled up. She thinks that's when you were taken. There was no time for her to say more… why did you come to the flat?_

_I was still out on some cases (this may surprise you) with the lovely ME Molly Hooper._

_As nice and cooperative as Molly proved to be today, it won't work precisely because she is too nice and cooperative. Have to admit, she is a sharp ME, but you're a sharp MD, and she is not you. She let me get away with too much. Not one criticism for my bad behavior. Anyway, all I could hear was you in the background. There is no substitute for your presence on a case, John. There will never be anyone better._

**It had been so from the moment they began working together. Sherlock cared less how others reacted to his deductions, but John's amazement flattered him, John's approval was most prized, which was why John's outright rejection dogged him all day.**

_I am sorry…_

**Something brought Sherlock out of his revere. **

**"****SSSSSSherrrlock!"**

**With waving arms, Mary was beckoning Sherlock back. Fear clutched his heart.**

_Something happened?_

**Great strides swiftly brought Sherlock beside the stretcher. Mary graciously stepped back. Sherlock moved in to grasp the raised hand of his friend. Squinting John lifted his wobbly head, his voice hoarse, his words still fuzzy.**

** "****Shhhhhlllkkkk…." John struggled to speak evidently frustrated by his uncooperative vocal chords. "Yuuuu …. sssaaaaved … me!" John swallowed and with great determination focused his expressive eyes on Sherlock's, "t….ankyuuuu…" A crooked smile was all he could manage, "meeeee fwrend!"**

**The effort was fatiguing, and John's lids dropped again, his consciousness slipping into the hazy realm of a drugged sleep.**

**"****He talked ****HIMSELF**** round," Mary whispered in Sherlock's ear, "I didn't have to do anything. Can't you see? … you need each other."**

**Stricken with sentiments he could no longer conceal from himself, Sherlock faced this enigmatic woman whose penetrating gaze proved capable of unmasking him. Yet, out of respect for John's privacy, Sherlock deflected the pulse of descriptors that would have catalogued her in his mental file. One thing seemed certain, however, as he looked with new appreciation at Mary Morstan: he had found an ally, not a rival, in the petite blond woman with warm eyes and a charming smile.**

**"****He really misses you." She said.**

**Sherlock nodded and looked away, wondering if Mary could see his unspoken reply.**

_I miss him too._


	5. Chapter 5 Unspoken but Overheard

**_"_****_When are you going to tell him?"_**

**_"_****_What?"_**

**_"_****_About WHY you faked it?"_**

**_"_****_He knows."_**

**_"_****_He doesn't really know. From the way he reacted, you didn't tell him everything, did you?"_**

**_"_****_He doesn't have to know."_**

**_"_****_Modesty doesn't become you!"_**

**_"_****_Altruism doesn't seek praise...isn't that the idea?"_**

**_"_****_In the ideal definition, yes… but human beings can't be purely altruistic. In the long run, the generosity of spirit has to be acknowledged. If it's not _****_perceived,_****_ there can be no appreciation…_**

**_"_**_So, if a tree falls in the forest, and no one hears it, does it make a sound?__**"**_

**_"_****_Sherlock! I'm not going to rehash philosophical arguments. You're the one getting involved… not I. Experts say to be successful at it, you must practice communication. It's a bother, because it means you have to listen and UNDERSTAND the other side. And if you don't, the other side gets hurt, or angry or suicidal..."_**

**_"_****_Was John suicidal?"_**

**_"_****_Surprised are we? What do you think?" _**

**_"_****_That's the problem, I didn't think…"_**

**_"_****_No, the problem was you were only thinking, not feeling. Don't be angry! Sentiments, attachments, affections, all messy and distracting, are counter-productive to logic and reason. There are too many strings…entanglements…any sensible person can find it strangling—" _**

**_"_****_Cut the lecture! Obviously, he didn't go through with it. How did he survive? Who saved him?"_**

**_"_****_Fretting now are we, Sherlock? How sensitive you've become! Would you have preferred to have been his hero to the rescue? Rest assured, we were watching enough to intervene…well, at least when he was contemplating jumping off Bart's. If he chose another way, let's say poison or throwing himself in front a bus, something a little more private or spontaneous, we might not have been able to do much."_**

**_"_****_What's wrong, Sherlock? You look queasy."_**

**_"_****_Who saved him?"_**

**_"_****_He saved himself. He didn't jump, not because he didn't have the reckless courage to do it…rather, because he decided he would clear you name first….(So, in a way, you were his hero. His loyalty to you saved him. Feel better?) My men heard him shouting something to that effect from the rooftop. It was an admirable decision on his part. We obliged. We kept him busy following leads that, bit-by- bit, exonerated you…the final story about your innocence broke just before you returned. Do you think that was coincidence? "_**

**_"_****_You know, Mycroft. What we did to John was wrong and inhumane, I stress _****_inhumane, _****_something neither of us grasped. The plan should have included him eventually as we originally decided."_**

**_"_****_Then he would have been dead from an assassin's bullet, one way or another. Moriarty's last command obeyed, your arch enemy would have won posthumously by killing your one and only real friend, along with Mrs. Hudson and Scotland Yard's Detective, Greg Lestrade—everyone who befriended you."_**

**_"_****_Not everyone…."_**

**_"_****_Yes, Ms. Hooper was off their radar. As you recognized, their big mistake was our greatest advantage. Fortunately the only assassin who witnessed the faked death couldn't take the shot on Watson, thanks to our preemptive intervention, and he never communicated with the others. As long as you were thought to be dead, they would live. It seemed a horrible predicament: so many assassins waiting in the wings on orders to kill your friends if you so much as called someone to give him hope." _**

**_"_****_It was too much to ask."_**

**_"_****_Of him or of you? Oh, I see, for you both. If I had a heart, I would be jealous of this special bond you have with him. But, my dear Sherlock, that is the nature of self-sacrifice. It is hardship and heartache. Had he been told the truth of why you 'died,' he would've been proud of your selflessness…We both know you could only have learned such a noble trait from him."_**

**_"_****_Angry, Mycroft, that your little brother doesn't emulate you? But of course, that would only be a problem if you actually cared."_**

**_"_****_Perhaps, Sherlock, you should fault yourself for what happened in your long absence. It shouldn't have taken two years to clean up Moriarty's network." _**

**_"_****_Thanks to you, I was virtually alone. I had to be thorough to close down the system and I was!  
_**

**_"_****_Are you sure? What do you think happened this evening?"_**

**_"_****_It's not Moriarty. I am certain of that. This, this with John was different.…a tease… a test…. That's the only explanation I have for the way we were fed clues to rescue him."_**

**_"_****_This once, I agree with you, brother. This was different."_**

**_"_****_What more do you know of this?"_**

**_"_****_The British government must keep some secrets from you, Sherlock. Be content. You have your life back."_**

**_"_****_Not completely. It's too late now, anyway. To survive, he moved on with Mary. He always had an eye for clever ladies, but Mary seems to be extraordinary in every way."_**

**_"_****_Awww, pity you. You fear you've been displaced! Do you think human love is one dimensional? I'm told it is not. Apparently, ordinary humans have an amazing capacity to love in a variety of ways simultaneously: lovers, friends, parents, children, pets, even objects. (Actually, it is dizzying!) The mathematical phrase "exponential" is often used to explain it. It is the stuff of popular media…their world is passionate about it... If all this romanticized nonsense is actually based in fact, then you can keep your friendships if you know how."_**

**_"_****_How?"_**

**_"_****_You are joking, right? Oh! A rhetorical question? The 'how' brother, is one thing I know nothing about! I told you yesterday, I am not lonely. I choose my solitude. It affords me the view I need to be above the rest with my superior intellect and my superior perspective. But the fact that there seems to be truth to this multifaceted emotion, I derive from observing you. You have friends you appreciate uniquely, Sherlock. You already demonstrate multidimensional affection. Why the long face, now?"_**

**_"_**_'__You don't know what you've got 'til it's gone__**…' to quote popular media."**_

**_"_****_That applies to the safety of London. Keep in mind there is no time for languishing. The clock is ticking on the high-alert…"_**

**_"_****_Working as we speak, Mycroft."_**

**_ "_****_Let me give you one final warning [buzz.] about your friend John Watson and his charming lady…[buzz.] Mobile call! Nevermind. Some other time. "_**

**_"_****_As you have always done since we were children, Mycroft, you go your way, I'll go in mine."_**

0000000000000000000000000000000

**Two sets of footfalls receded. The conversation that had been whispered nearby between the two brothers stopped suddenly.**

**Only when the chatter subsided did John Watson wake fully from his twilight—as if the abrupt silence snapped like fingers—bringing him to consciousness. Immediately aware of his surroundings, John realized he was in hospital. A curtain partially surrounded him for privacy in an otherwise completely empty emergency bay. **

**Was he dreaming? ****_No_****. He knew what he heard.**

**He squinted, peering through the parted drapes beyond the opening. It was not hard to spot the cloaked figure with dark curls rising above the raised collar—in his singular style—lingering at the exit door, briefly talking to someone in a red coat—Mary—who had just entered. Then Sherlock left.**

**"****You're awake, John?" Mary exclaimed with delight as she drew open the curtain, put down her parcels, and gave him a warm kiss. "Wonderful! They said it would be soon. I imagined you might be hungry when you finally felt clear of the anesthesia. Good timing. I just went for some takeaway and asked Sherlock to stand watch 'til I came back!" **

**"****Thank you, Mary," Propping himself up, John formed his words carefully but with normal control, his voice no longer paralyzed by the sedative. **

**"****Let me help!" Mary assisted the patient to a sitting position, with the efficiency of an expert nurse. "How are you feeling?" Nurse Morstan asked, although her smile grew broader with relief and her eyes were bright with tears that she rubbed away quickly, **

**"****Actually, much better, very much improved…little achy here and there…" He clasped her hand, and kissed it, looking up into her joyful face with immense gratitude. **

**Boldly, Mary leaned forward and spoke softly in his ear. "As soon as they discharge you, I want to get you home…!" Ruffling his smoky hair, she kissed him lightly and returned to the packaged takeaway. **

**"****Ahem, ah, Mary," John could feel the edges of a smile forming as sensation returned to his lips. A blush warmed his cheeks. Although, she appeared to be preoccupied with taking off her coat and settling her purse, he could see Mary was also blushing. **

**In the usual John Watson fashion, it was time to deflect emotions. "Uh, Mary. Just before I woke, I heard talking. Was Sherlock alone when he was here?"**

**"****Actually, no." She responded while unfolding the food sack. "He said his brother stopped by for a chat. I just missed him. It might have been the distinguished gentleman I bypassed on my way in… tall, aristocratic…talking on his mobile."**

**John nodded. "That would be Mycroft."**

**"****Why do you ask?" Mary gave him a choice, "tea or coffee?"**

**"****Humm, uh! What time is it? For that matter, what day is it?"**

**"****It's after midnight, actually closer to 1 a.m. November 5****th****!"**

**John chuckled. "I don't care. It doesn't matter! Please, Coffee is fine! I've had enough sleep!"**

**"****Now, that's my John! Alert and decisive! Be careful. It's piping!" Mary beamed happily as she folded her hands over John's after handing him the cup. "That was some scare you gave us. Don't want to burn you now with hot coffee!" **

**Beyond Mary's cheerfulness, John noticed the genuine worry in her face. It was still unclear to him what had happened after he collapsed from the sedative. Memories were beginning to return. The discomfort of lying on wood, the smell of smoke, the blaze of fire encircling him—that he couldn't yell for help was frightening. A familiar voice calling him, arms grabbing him and dragging him—eyes lock—Sherlock! How did he know? How did he get there? Mary was also crying his name.**

**Warmed by the devotion of both his precious lady and his invaluable friend, John felt speechless in the face of what he presumed was their dramatic rescue. Who would target him?**

**Mary must have noticed his dark expression and prompted him with a reminder. "Why did you ask if Sherlock were alone?"**

** "****Well, Mary. I heard him talking. Yes. it was with Mycroft. All part of my dream at first, you know, their conversation. Started all hazy, but I heard everything they said clearly and distinctly."**

**"****Hope you didn't hear any national secrets…. they'd have to kill you." She giggled with a wink.**

**For the first time in a very long time, John laughed with an incredibly light heart.**


	6. Chapter 6 One Word

**Twisting around to see who had just walked up the steps and into the flat, Sherlock Holmes blinked in astonishment.**

**"****John!" **_John? HERE! NOW? NOT LIKE THIS! Not with them! _

**For mere milliseconds, the consulting detective remained immobile; his feet planted atop the center sofa cushion where he stood to inspect his information wall. The elderly man and woman, who were seated on the flanking cushions, were looking up; the woman chatted matter-of-factly about their London visit. When Sherlock uttered John's name in deep and quiet surprise, their conversation halted.**

**For another sequence of nanoseconds, three pairs of eyes stared at the unassuming man standing in the threshold.**

** "****Sorry!" John Watson hesitated, genuinely apologetic, but instantly disappointed. **_Can't have company! Spent the whole morning rehearsing what I need to say._** "****You're busy." **

**Lightning quick, Sherlock reacted. "Er, no, no no! They were just leaving!" Somewhat roughly, Sherlock grasped the older woman's left arm and pulled her off the couch. **_Got to get them OUT! Must talk to him—alone!_

**"****Oh, oh! Were we?" She seemed dismayed by his abruptness.**

** "****Yaaaaas!" Sherlock insisted nimbly steadying the woman he had yanked to her feet. Her tall companion rose obediently.**

**"****No. No…" John let his voice trail. "…if you've got a case…?" **

_No no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no! _

**Watching Sherlock frenetically shove the departing couple toward the door was disturbing and amusing; John side-stepped, barely avoiding the oncoming crush.**

** "****No! Not a case! **_Please don't utter a sound, NEITHER of you! Say nothing!_

**It was not hard for John to understand that Sherlock—failing miserably at being blasé—wanted to empty the flat so they could talk. **_Good. I'm flattered. At least he agrees our privacy is a priority At one time, I might have intervened for the sake of civility. Not this time. No, sorry. Not going to postpone this anymore. Not going to let anyone or anything get in the way…._

**"****No, no, no…!" Sherlock's thoughts were a whirlwind of perseverating monosyllabics, and in the commotion, juggling what he could say aloud and what should remain in his head took skillful maneuvering. "Go. GO!" **_Not good, not a good mix! Get out before you ruin everything!_

**"****Yeah, well, we're here 'til Saturday, if you remember." **

_DON'T BOTHER ME RIGHT NOW WITH TRIFLES! "_**Yes. Wonderful! Just GET out!"**

**To filter out the ruckus caused by Sherlock and the couple, John did the respectable thing. He ignored them. Although he pretended to examine the array of photos, articles, and diagrams covering the wall, he actually utilized the time to review his prepared statements: **_Sherlock, yesterday afternoon, I came to see you, willing to listen to your side…I wanted to give you a chance to explain…_

**"****Give us a ring," the woman insisted.**

**"****Yes. Very nice, good. Get out!" Sherlock was doing his brusque best, even more rudely than usual, to eject the couple. Immediately slamming the door proved futile, however. A well-placed foot encased in a sensible woman's shoe blocked the threshold. **_Clever woman! Should have anticipated this!_

**Sherlock's crystal blue eyes were matched in intensity by the crystal blue eyes of the white-haired woman.**

**"****I can't tell you how glad we are, Sherlock. All that time people thinking the worst of you." She was speaking softly, but to the detective's acute senses, she might as well have been shouting at the top of her lungs for John to hear**._ (Oh, the trouble this will cause, Shut Up! Shut UP!) _**"We're just so pleased it's all over."**

_Still have __SOMEONE __who __THINKS __the __WORST __of me, unless you remove yourselves so I can change his opinion._

**The door shuddered several more times against the immovable shoe. Sherlock fidgeted, glancing nervously at John who had politely wandered to the opposite side of the room—but perhaps, not completely out of earshot.**

**Successfully blocking out the doorway whispers, John continued with his speech. **_So… Sherlock, I was putting our friendship on the line with an ultimatum…because your actions from two years ago, even the short while before you "died," were so full of contradictions, it made no sense—at least to an ordinary man like me—an average man who presumed he had the privilege to call someone with your incredible gifts "friend and confidante." Your death…nearly killed me. In short, for what you did to me, I needed…I thought you owned me…an apology…a real apology, not some flippant, oh-get-over-it-John kind of sorry._

**"****Ring us more often, won't you?" The kindly man interjected. "She WORRies!"**

**Introspective and focused, John bowed his head, arms clasped behind him as he wandered toward the window. **_But you proved to be every bit the friend I believed you were—even more. Now you have demonstrated the noblest of motives in your sacrifice. To keep others safe, you put your life on the line, and even though you didn't have to die literally to do it, you "died" to protect your friends. And despite my fury the previous evening, you SHOWED me by your actions last night… what I needed to know….you SAVED me!_

**Frustrated, Sherlock glanced toward the preoccupied doctor, willing to do anything to speed up the couple's closing remarks and encourage their departure. **_Why is he here? What is he going to say? That I broke faith, that I broke my …_

**"****Promise?" The woman held motherly power and persuasion in her plea. **

_Hmmm? Oh Yes…you're still here…? What else do you want from me? You can have Mycroft ring you more often. He can tattle all he wants. Oh, well, okay…if it makes up for…everything._

**"****Promise!" With the nod of his head, Sherlock whispered his acquiescence. Gently, the women caressed his cheek, a warm smile on her face.**

**"****Oh, for God…!" Immediately, Sherlock recoiled with the embarrassment of a petulant child and managed to shut the door in their faces.**

_Deep Breath! Now breathe!_

**Gazing out the window, John was in full concentration: **_The consulting detective I first met had no social skills, cared less about people in general, failed to grasp human nature, and time and again seemed impervious to the feelings of others. Maybe that was who you were then and still pretend to be now. But over time, I saw you change. The Sherlock, who masqueraded as the indifferent ice man, who spurned friendships and emotions, was the fake. This Sherlock, the man who devoted two years of his life to the service of others, put duty before self, like a loyal soldier is real—the man I am proud to claim as my best friend. _

_I know you have your peculiarities. Your sensory and nervous systems are wired differently than most people and while this makes you seem to us, on your best days, more than a little eccentric, it is the reason you are so extraordinary. You are an artist at observation. I have watched you discipline yourself like no other man. I can attest to your amazing deductions. But now I know for certain, you are capable of compassion. You have changed, truly. _

_The way I figure it, I owe you an apology for not trusting your motives enough….huh?_

**Sherlock's sigh made him turn.**

**Both men, appraising the other, thought simultaneously.**_What now? _

**With his back to the door, Sherlock gave an awkward wave. "Sorry about that!" **_Maybe I __should let him start. Don't know how much trouble I'm in. Might as well hear him out, so I'm not admitting to more than what he has on his list of denunciations?_

**"****No, it's fine." John found himself stalling with the usual small talk. **_No point in rushing into it. Pace yourself, John. Casual is good; ease into this slowly. "_**Clients?" **

_He says "it's fine…" Is it? Until he finds out who the "clients" are…Will it remain fine? Must be honest. Don't alienate him with deceit. Simple question. Simple answer:_

**"****Just my parents!" Sherlock crossed the room, maneuvering to observe his friend better. John's presence in the flat was both comforting and familiar, but his yet-undisclosed motives made Sherlock wary. **

** "****Your parents?" **_Wait! What?_

**"****In town for a few days..." **_So he's surprised… hmmm… could be a fortunate distraction!_

**"****Your parents!" **_And Mycroft's parents? In the flesh? You actually have parents, real human beings? That perfectly unremarkable couple…the one that was just sitting on the sofa here?_

**"****Mycroft promised to take them to a matinee of ****_Les Mis_****. Tried to talk me into doing it." **_Taken off guard? Good. This might actually work in my favor. Might keep him off unpleasant topics …avoid confrontation of everything disagreeable altogether … possibly bypass all the emotional baggage quickly so we could resume our work._

**Curiosity got the better of John who advanced to the window for a better look. He observed the white haired couple emerge at the sidewalk level and begin searching about for a taxi. **_Unbelievable! Common, average people….Sherlock's parents!_** "****Those were your parents?"**

**"****Yes." **_What's he getting at? What did he expect?_

**"****Well!" Still looking out the window, John watched the woman halt a black cab ****with a commanding wave of her arm. A decisive Mrs. Holmes beckoned Mr. Holmes to hurry. Within moments they had climbed in and transported away. **_Don't let him see you smile. Be diplomatic. Don't want to hurt his ego…but…!_

**Enforcing exceptional patience, Sherlock took the moment to study his engrossed friend—the companion he missed was standing within arm's reach— a handshake away—yet, the consulting detective restrained amiable overtures for fear the current calm would give way to the great turbulence of John's indignation. John, on the other hand, seemed inordinately taken by the idea of his parents.**

**Masking his grin with a puzzled face, John turned toward Sherlock, admitting, "that is not what I…" Quickly, the doctor looked away under pretense of checking the sidewalk below. **_Don't know why this hits me as funny! Incongruous! Nothing I would have predicted…but, just imagining their family dynamics…! Stop it, stop it, shouldn't be laughing! Stay serious…_

**"****What?" The consulting detective's voice grew hesitant. **_Past calculations for the rate of frequency and the ratio of taxis over time on Baker's street means they have probably caught a black cab by now and are off to their next stop, so ….what ARE you looking at, John?_

**"****I …I..er mean that they're…just…so …" John struggled to compose his face, offering a blank expression as substitute. **_He knows when you lying, you might as well spit it out._

**Sherlock inclined his head, with a defensive tilt, his eyes searching John's.**

**"…****ordinary...!" Under Sherlock's scrutiny, John succumbed with a nervous laugh. **_Talk about letting the cat out of the bag! _

**The extraordinary youngest son of seemingly ordinary parents raised his eyes in feigned misery: "It's a cross I have to bear!"**

**Humor at last broke all defenses, and John burst into a great chuckle that made Sherlock smile.**

_… __like old times. _**Again, their unspoken thoughts synchronized. **_Before …_

**Abruptly, the doctor's laugh ceased as he pivoted toward Sherlock. Eyes narrowing, John's voice grew husky with pain. **

**"****Did they know too?"**

**Shamed by the open anguish on his friend's face, Sherlock lowered his eyes, sadly silent. **_Seems indefensible now, John, yes. I know. The excuse that assassins were waiting was true, but it is a poor excuse for my not being more cunning than my nemesis and not giving you a clue…something only you and I would know, something to give you hope. Regrettably, it was easier to focus on Moriarty's network and not consider what I left behind._

** "****Hmm?" The ache intensifying, John's anger simmered beneath his question. "That you spent the last two years playing hide-n-seek?" **_This is pissing me off again. Wait! Stop it! Stop it now! What am I saying? Stay calm. Remember, he was trying to protect me! I overheard them talking…last night…but ooooh, this is more salt in a festering wound._

**Appearing coyly distracted, Sherlock picked miniscule debris off his laptop.**_This is it…the confrontation with John. The unavoidable storm is coming… what to do? Levity didn't work last time…?_ **Without looking up, he gave the best answer he could muster. "Maybe."**

**"****AHHH! So that's why they weren't at the funeral!" John exploded more bewildered than angry now as he stomped off his frustration by pacing the room. **_I'm NOT overreacting! That I could have been spared the misery, like others were, enrages me…rationally, of course your parents, through Mycroft, would know. But should I find out relatives of all sorts: cousins, second cousins, aunts, uncles the entire Holmes clan—had more right to know than a mere flat mate—which is all I was, I guess—along with your confidantes: Molly and a team of 25 or so…Errrrrrrr!_

**"****Sorry," Sherlock shouted back with intense exasperation as he followed his friend with his eyes. "Sorry again!" Even to Sherlock's ears, his "sorry" didn't ring true**_. Don't ruin this now. There is nothing stopping him from marching right out the door. You have not offered him any reason to stay, and then,… what will you become without him?_

**A chasm stretched between them. On one side, menacing storm clouds of unresolved anger hovered over the beleaguered John who, aggrieved by feelings of betrayal, had clenched his eyes shut; on the other side was a deserted landscape, cast in shadows, where Sherlock stood alone to deal with his doubts and fears. Across this abyss, while their unspoken arguments battled, Sherlock kept his eyes riveted on John.**

_Observe John, figure it out…what is missing here?_

_Christ, Sherlock, my emotions are raw…! Why won't you give me something to help me understand?! What perfect standard of self-sacrifice won't allow you to tell me about the threats to my life? Or is there another darker secret holding you back? At this moment, I am so confused. I don't know what I want from you!_

_For the cruel and inexcusable oversight of the past two years, John, I deserve your wrath. Yet, too lose your friendship over this would be worse. How will I become the better friend you seek if you abandon me?_

**The silence separating them broke on one word.**

**"****Sorry." **

**The one word, spoken the way John needed to hear, crossed the divide on a tender whisper. Filled with genuine remorse and heartfelt vulnerability it was the real voice of Sherlock Holmes, authentic and healing. The force of this "sorry" took John's breath away. Their eyes met, held, looked away. **

**In that instant as John exhaled, his anger evaporated and forgiveness filled the void. It was that simple. The real "sorry" was so understated but enriched with emotional depth that John felt enormous gratitude sweep over him—the need for his prepared speech seemed moot.**

**"****See you shaved it off then?" **_If he doesn't punch me now, we've made progress._

**"****Huh? Yeah." **_Testing me with the mustache 'button' are we? Well, I won't react. "_**It wasn't working for me." **_Funny, I am not pissed off now._

** "****I'm glad." **_Cleared that hurdle._

**"****You didn't like it?" **_Not really fooling you, pretending I don't know, am I?_

**"****No. I prefer my doctors clean shaven." **

**Taken aback, John gave Sherlock a sharp look. **_What doctors? _**A giddy smirk and teasing smile was all he could see on the detective's face. **

**Still puzzled, John checked out his armchair, "It's not a sentence you hear every day," and sank into the familiar cushions as if he had never left, slapping his gloves onto the side table where he let them rest.**

**Sherlock's smirk dissolved as soon as John sat where he always belonged. **_John, you're in your chair! We are conversing without fists! …are you really back?_

**On the edge of hope, Sherlock remained poised, not sure which way he should proceed. **_Lighthearted retorts? Teasing banter? Witty remarks? Engaging John on a case? Or rather, what would John want…? What am I truly prepared to offer him?_

**"****How are you feeling?" For a second time in as many minutes, Sherlock unmasked earnest sincerity that softened his rich voice.**

**The last remnants of John's speech blew out of his mind forever— leaving him purged of anger, cathartic.**

**"****Yeah, not bad..." John quipped, glancing away evasively until his emotions were in check. Finally he looked up at his friend with appreciation. "A bit…smoked."**

**"****Right…." Sherlock braced himself, unsure if the danger had finally passed. Feeling like a client under interrogation, he stood before his seated friend and waited for what he felt he deserved—waited for the last and terrible barrage of denunciation-accusations-condemnations-disapproval by the wronged man whom he wanted back as his friend.**

**"****Last night. Who did that?" **_For now, Sherlock, let's move on…what's done is done. _

_Nothing? _**Sherlock inhaled with relief. **_John is letting it go? __A stay of execution? _

**"****And why did they target me?" **_That was then, this is now._

_Thank you, John! _**"****I don't know." Sherlock pursed his lips with concern, his gaze turned inward to peruse his Mind Palace.**

**"****Is it someone trying to get to you through me? Is it something to do with this terrorist thing you talked about?" Speaking from his chair, Dr. John Watson reclaimed his place as the renowned Consulting Detective's confidante.**

**"****I don't know. I can't see the pattern. It's too nebulous."**

_Clearly, thanks to you, John, our schism is over and our game is on! _

**Sherlock kicked into gear, ready to embrace the reconciled doctor—his friend—in ****_The Work, _****with one final question still uncertain: **

_How can I get you to SAY that you truly have forgiven me?_


	7. Chapter 7 Unspoken: 2m:30s On the Brink

**Once they went through the locked gate and down the winding staircases of the Underground at the undeveloped Sumatra Road siding, the army doctor and the consulting detective pointed their torches, piercing the gloom of the abandoned station with two slender beams.**

**During their descent, they traveled side-by-side in companionable silence, but John's thoughts were anything but quiet. Background chatter he could not filter out—unlike his brilliant friend who seemed focused on ****_The Work_****—filled him with immense incredulity.** _Dunno! Wouldn't have believed this forty-eight hours ago! __back__ with Sherlock Holmes…alive and kicking, he is… and on a case! Couldn't resist him. Didn't want to…It's where I belong. Need to guard his back. This time I will not fail!_

**Spiraling down the steel steps, John's spirits were lifted. The rhythmic clang of their footfalls on metallic treads was like the beat of drums in battle. The sounds stirred something within him that had too long lay dormant with disuse. The solitary soldier, once more united in the brotherhood of service, had found renewed purpose. **

**Tracking alongside his long-lost companion, Sherlock moved with extraordinary tenacity like a bloodhound keen on a scent. Although he had marshaled all his brainpower strictly for facts about the case, the consulting detective chose to allow one stray sentiment—because it sharpened his exhilaration. **_How invigorating! Without hesitation, he joined me…how I missed this! Missed HIM. Whether he knows it or not, surely he must be close to forgiving me._

**Pleased about keeping up the pace—after two years of inactivity—John replayed Sherlock's indisputable truth in his head. ****_"You have missed this. Admit it. The thrill of the chase, the blood pumping through your veins, just the two of us against the world…"_** **These words, spoken days ago, had plumbed the depth of his soul and therefore sorely aggravated him**.

_Sherlock was right, as bloody usual._

**Until they had reached the empty platform—and saw nothing—no carriage parked at the station.**

**"****I don't understand." **_Not possible, not possible, not possible!_

**"****Well, that's a first." John wryly commented on his friend's surprise.**

**"****There's nowhere else it could be." **_Can't be wrong…think! What makes this location logistically relevant?_

**Squeezing his eyes shut, Sherlock concentrated. **

**To an outsider, his trance was seizure-like, often complete with limbs waving, hands trembling, and vocalizations of unintelligible words. To his friend, it was the precipitous moment before an astonishing revelation, and John had never stopped being amazed. **_Yeah! Missed this, indeed!_

**Blocking out distractions, Sherlock created possible scenarios in his mind, quickly deducing a tunnel of fire and the explosive disaster to Parliament as the final outcome. "OH!" The vision spurred him toward the tunnel on his left.**

**"****What?" John steadfastly followed without waiting for an answer until Sherlock leapt off the platform and onto the tracks. **

**The doctor halted requiring practical reassurances. "Hang on, Sherlock?"**

**"****What?" The detective's voice was flat, but surprisingly patient. **

**"****That's…! Isn't it ****_LIVE_****?"**

_Ahha! The voice of common sense! Your forte, John; a knack you obviously haven't lost since our separation. _**"****Perfectly safe," Sherlock assured, adding qualifiers, "…as long as we avoid touching the rails." Undeterred, the hound had found the scent again. The pack would have to follow.**

**"****Of course! Yeah! Avoid the rails! Great!" **_Not so capable of turning off worries like you, Sherlock! But can't let you go it alone. _**The swift progress of the long-legged detective left John no choice but to jump down in spite of his fears of electrocution by rail. **

**"****This way!" Without a backward glance, Sherlock used his commanding voice to encourage his friend. Inwardly Sherlock smiled. **_May have had those few moments of doubt on the platform, but I've never had cause to doubt that you, John, would stay with me. _

**"****You're sure?" **_Why can't I stop questioning him?_

**"****Sure!" **_Ask away, my friend. As I have told you before, y__our outside eye, your second opinion, is very useful to me.__Your questions help strengthen my certainty. _

**Attuned to all clues ahead, Sherlock listened with private pleasure as John quickened his pace to catch up.****Side-by-side once again, they searched the tunnels and infrastructure in silent expectation; both were bolstered by the presence of the other, though neither saw the need to verbalize what was perfectly understood. Deep in thought they walked the rails toward certain danger. Each housed the same unspoken motives: to avert disaster and to save innocent lives. ****With their senses on high alert, the two had traveled a short distance before John spotted the carriage nestled in the bend of the tunnel; "Ah! …..Look at that!"**

**"****John!" Sherlock had paused to look up and used his torchlight to show his friend the series of explosives strategically attached to the high walls above. **

**"****Emission charges!" John nodded, acknowledging that the gravity of the situation had seriously escalated. For several seconds, the consulting detective and his doctor stood still on the tracks, concentrating their torch beams on the tube carriage that sat, dark and silent, a short distance away.**

**In that brief pause, remembrances of war overwhelmed John Watson—****_deafening sounds of rocket-propelled grenades, explosions ripping the air, dust and sand propelled by blast winds, comrades blown apart. Under fire, the duty-bound army doctor raced to rescue the wounded, with no thought for personal peril, while dodging shards of metal the size of fists flying in every direction…and then ultimately, the searing pain that took him down and swallowed him in darkness. _**

**As John relived vivid details in the rush of milliseconds, real fear gripped him. A voice in his head pleaded. **_Not again! My life is just beginning. I have more to live for. I have Mary… a future…I should turn back now and report to the authorities, and no one, except maybe Sherlock, would hold it against me. I would be doing the right thing. It is foolhardy arrogance to think we can handle this terrorist threat single-handedly. It is no longer my duty to make the ultimate sacrifice!_

**A stronger voice gave challenge. **_Whether or not I still wear the uniform, I have sworn to defend and protect—to do my best, even if I have to die trying. Countless lives are at stake and MI6 intel had given us an advantage we cannot ignore. Retreat is not an option as long as we can forestall or thwart the attack. We must push on. _**The final, compelling reason arose from deep within: **_Couldn't live with myself if I deserted him now. _

**In the tunnel where he stood beside Sherlock, the soldier fought and won his private battle. John's courage answered the call to service and duty, while his loyalty to his friend drove him forward to combat their new enemy together. Without uttering a word of protest, John exhaled and fell into quick step with his partner. **

_Extraordinary courage, my admirable friend displays. I must make sure he survives this. _**The detective silently promised himself as he observed the quiet turmoil in his partner. While Sherlock had analyzed their chances even before they left Baker Street, (there were eight possible scenarios with several already in play), he was less apprehensive than John about the futility or fatality of their mission. **_Although there is always a remote possibility I might have miscalculated…hmm. John is indeed the bravest man, as he knows none of these potential options for escape and rescue, and still he accompanies me_**. **

**Within the compartment of the dark carriage, sleuth and doctor trod carefully as they made cursory inspections. John was the first to declare with hesitant relief what he was hoping to find. "****It's empty. There's nothing."**

**"****Isn't there…?"**

**Sherlock's answer sent chills down his spine. **

**The telltale wires Sherlock had followed were unmistakable as he ripped back the seat covers. "THIS is the bomb." **

**"****What?"**

**"****It's not carrying explosives. The whole compartment IS the bomb." Uncovering seat after seat, Sherlock didn't need to tell John this was "not good." This discovery was perplexing, but as the seat components of the bomb were not activated, they had valuable time to properly assess possibilities and find the detonating device. Unfortunately, the scope of the imminent terrorist attack was immense, and despite all his mental planning, Sherlock immediately recognize ****_in situ_**** that some options no longer applied and others had definite limitations. He would have to find the best solution very quickly to ensure safety for everyone in the path of this danger.**

**Rapidly, the detective's eyes searched the compartment, his mind replicating the thought processes of the bomb builders. It was fairly simple. Lifting the floor panel that appeared loose to his shoe, Sherlock pried off the cover. Buried in the floor was the massive heart of the bomb, with detonating device and clock for the countdown. **

**The sight made them both gasp. **

**The inoperative and unlit timer was frozen at 2:30.**

**Taking several deep breaths before he spoke, John dropped his voice two full octaves. "We need bomb disposal." **

**"****There may not be time for that now." Sherlock sounded strangely worried.**

**"****So, whadda we do?" John held his composure, relying on his unswerving faith in Sherlock's guidance.**

**There was a long pause, before Sherlock shook his head and lifted his eyes to John. "I've no idea." **_Never dismantled a bomb__…__Not enough time to learn …must review my other options._

**"****Well, think of something!" Anger tinged John's voice. **

_Now going on auto-pilot to keep John talking while I think._** "****Why do you think I know what to do?"**

_Huh? Are you kidding me?_**_"_****Because you're Sherlock Holmes!" Offering the obvious answer, John tempered his dismay with cool reason. "You're as clever as it gets?" **_Don't play dense now!_

**"****Doesn't mean I know how to defuse a giant bomb! What about you?" **_Actually "defusing" may not be necessary….keep responding. This superficial banter with John is helping…_

**"****I wasn't in bomb disposal. I'm a bloody doctor." John firmly reminded the man who knew everything.**

**"…****And a soldier, as you keep reminding us all!" **_In the military, there are bomb squads, soldiers who know about bomb disposal. They've learned how, by using diagrams, blueprints, charts to defuse … dismantle…. Usually, low explosions require a man-made device…needs a burning process … But without access to specs, how else does one stop a bomb? _

**John was puzzled by his friend's off-putting remarks and distant look. **_Sherlock's distracted and getting snappish now. Not a good sign. Not going to encourage any absurd arguing… must be helpful. _**"****C-can we, can we rip that timer off or something?**

**"****That would set it off!" Sherlock swiftly responded again showing authority and focus.**

**"****You see! You know things!" Somehow that was John's proof. **

**The consulting detective exhaled and looked around, searching the compartment for answers his friend was certain he knew. **_There __are__ other ways to stop a bomb! _

**When the lights in the carriage switched on suddenly, along with beeping and clicking noises, both men were startled, but intense panic set in when the timer began counting down.**

**"****OH!" John backed away raising his arms helplessly.**

**"****Aiyyyyyyy!" Sherlock scrambled about the carriage, and brought his hand to his forehead, his customary gesture for thinking—but this time nothing came.**

**"****My God!" John lifted his eyes heavenward.**

**"****Errrr!" Sherlock's mind whirled with questions while his body spun in circles. **

**"****Why didn't you call the police?" Dry mouthed, John hoarsely croaked out recriminations that applied equally to himself. **_I should have known better. I should have called the police. I should have done it for him. Why do I obey him so completely? _

**"****It's just…" Sherlock stammered. **_It's just a matter of time …just have to figure out what I'm trying to remember._

**"****Why do you NEVER call the police?" John exploded with exasperation.**

**"****Well, it's no use now!" Sherlock responded reasonably, feigning a calm he knew fooled no one.**

**2:15 the timer read.**

**"****So you can't switch the bomb off. You can't switch the bomb off, and you didn't call the police!" Heaving with adrenaline, frustration fueled John's fury.**

**With sincerest regret, Sherlock watched his faithful friend pace like a trapped animal. **_What have I done? How can I save him if I fail at finding a solution in time? This is absolutely unforgivable... _

**"****Go, John." Unshriven, Sherlock absolved his friend of their unspoken obligation to each other. He pointed the way. "Go now."**

**"****There's no point now is there?" John dismissed Sherlock's self-sacrifice with his own extraordinary selflessness. Employing logic that Sherlock understood, John began with calm rationale; "Because there's not enough time to get away," although distress got the better of him, and he ended hotly, "and if we don't do this, other people will DIE!"**

**Awed by John's bravery, Sherlock was more moved by the doctor's optimism that they could actually prevent the explosion.**

**The timer switched down from 1:57 to 1:56.**

**"****Mind Palace!" John commanded.**

**"****Hmm?" Sherlock was distracted by something he had just heard. Something John had said that was relevant if only he could single it out from all John's other suggestions. **

**"****Use your Mind Palace!"**

**"****How will that help?"**

**"****You've sorted away every fact under the sun!"**

**"****OH, ooh, well, do you think I've just got '****_how to defuse a bomb'_**** tucked away in there somewhere?" **

_We're bickering like biddies at the wash line,_ **John thought.** _This is not a very noble way to die!_

**"****YES!" John answered simply with emphasis.**

**The complete faith in John's face challenged Sherlock to try. "Maybe…"**

**"****Think!" John coached as Sherlock screwed his eyes shut to access his Mind Palace. "Think things through… THINK!"**

**Trembling with the attempt that often under duress would yield dazzling success, Sherlock grimaced and moaned; hands at his temple, but this time his visit in the Palace produced a scream; "Naagh!" but nothing more.**

**Defeat appeared on Sherlock's face, and John lost all hope.**

**"****OH MY GOD!" Impacted by sudden and great despair, John turned away concealing his raw terror. "This is it." He said softly. **

**Observing the slump in John's shoulders—his friend seemed crushed by hopelessness—Sherlock moved into hyper drive. **_Must save John! Must save John! Must save John! Must save John! Must save John! Must save John! Must save John! _**Dropping to the floor, the great detective inspected the massive bomb. **_Can't defuse! Can't dismantle! Wait! It's not hidden in my Mind Palace. John just gave me the answer—SWITCH the bomb off! Find the terrorists' fail-safe, the kill-switch._**Sherlock finally knew what to look for as he slid his hands around the large canister, making slapping noises, while spewing half thoughts aloud in unintelligible mumbles, punctuated by sighs. **_Save John! Save John! Save John! Save John! Save John! Save John! Save John! _**…****.He could save John, a****_s long as_**** the terrorists built in a kill-switch!**

**"****Oh my God," John repeated, trying to reconcile himself to the inevitable. **_There is little time…So many will suffer…too many… but Mary, dear Mary, forgive me for the grief you will endure on my behalf….such a bitter sorrow…so many things I should have said…so many sentiments left unspoken…forgive me for leaving you too soon… All my life, I tried to do the right , this is it: dying for my country, giving my life in an attempt to save others; these thing I am about to do. At least in the end, no one can say I deserted my friend…You and I already know, I couldn't live with that!_

**"****Oh God…?" **_YES! _**Sherlock muttered over the cylindrical body of the wired monstrosity in the floor. "Hah, hah!" **_YES! _**The mantra in his head ceased and his voice grew softer when he switched the button off. **_YES!_

**The timer stopped **_YES! _**between 1:29 and 1:28. **

**Shaken from his thoughts, John glanced down at Sherlock who knelt on the floor over the embedded bomb. **

**The consulting detective raised his eyes to meet John's. **_Do not lie to him. __Give him the truth. Tell him now…. Wait. No! Not now. Not yet. First, there is something else I need to tell him…we need to work out_.** Panting and hoarse, Sherlock's voice and face filled with heart-wrenching sorrow. "I'm sorry!" **_I AM. I never mean to hurt you, never mean to betray you…_

**Briefly John shut his eyes. From Sherlock's aggrieved expression and uncharacteristic emotional display, he interpreted that they were doomed and time had run out. Still, John could not relinquish his last hope in Sherlock's gift for cheating death. "What?"**

**"****Can't, I can't do it, John…." Sherlock continued the truth in his head. **_I can't let you die. I can't, I won't…. I will not let you die, not here, not this way. Can't let you be robbed of the life you deserve._**With a subtle shake of his head, Sherlock continued his plea, selectively speaking only certain portions aloud. "I don't know how…" **_to get you to … _**"****Forgive me!" He finished the statement kneeling upright in a prayerful pose. **

**Fighting for every remaining second of his life, John struggled between denial and hope, uttering a furious "what?" in stunned disbelief. **_Never seen Sherlock like this. Hearing his contrition… at last! Then it must be true! We are going to die. This is goodbye? Huh? It's unbelievable! Actually I'm NOT believing this! Am I an idiot? We're standing here in our final moments, and my gut makes me suspicious! Now I admit, I definitely have trust issues!_

**Still on his knees Sherlock clasped his hands in prayer. "Please John, Forgive me? For all the hurt that I've caused you?" **_My exaggeration may soon clue you into my little prank, but I do mean every word, my friend. _

**"****No no no no no. This is a trick." ** _I've seen you fool suspects with your distraught act. I've watched you persuade witnesses and gain information—even using tears that are convincing, and let's not forget how you tricked me from the rooftop at St. Bart's. Should I actually trust you? _

**"****No." Sherlock shook his head and stifled a grin.**

**Unsettled, John noticed the grin and grinned back. "Another one of your bloody tricks." **

**"****No." **_It's better giving him a flat denial than too many false-sounding protestations._

**"****You're just trying to make me say something nice." John's intuition about Sherlock was often faulty, but the doctor felt something was truly amiss. **_Maybe because…ummm, we're about to die?_

**"****Heh," Sherlock's grin broadened into an ironic smile. His hands remained clutched imploringly as he shook his head again. "Not this time…" **_You are a clever man, John. Your instincts are still solid… So tempting to spill the beans…but we need to finish this._

**"****Just to make you look good even though you behaved like…" John's voice broke with inconsolable grief, and he again withdrew to wrestle his emotional turbulence alone. **

**Grieved and shamed by his friend's fresh pain, Sherlock backed into a nearby seat. **_Yes, now, John! Let me have it. I can take it now. Wasn't ready two days ago, even a few hours ago, but your loyalty is invaluable to me. I have been a friendless and completely ludicrous egotist, whom no one else can stand, except you. You saw the good in me. By comparison, you are too good for me, John, but you are good FOR me. I want to reciprocate and be good FOR you. _

**Struggling to use the remaining seconds wisely, John grabbed the side pole for strength. Bowing his head, he stamped his foot and loosened his feelings. "I wanted you NOT to be dead!"**

**"****Well, be careful what you wish for." **_We both can see this irony._

**John nodded speechless, painfully aware precious more seconds they could never reclaim had just been lost. Overwhelmed by grief, love, anger, and affection, tumbling on waves through his mind, he felt he was drowning on the words in his throat. **

**Recognizing their impasse, Sherlock addressed the obvious truth. "If I hadn't come back you wouldn't be standing there..." **

**Sherlock's downturned mouth was edged with sadness and remorse. **_Go ahead, John yell at me. I deserve it. I acknowledge my blame and the hardship you endured for two long years…. I know your loyalty to me exceeds all bounds… look how willingly you stand with me on the brink of death. _

_"..._**and you'd still have a future… with Mary..."**

**"****Yeah. I know!" John interrupted, waving his hand for Sherlock to stop. Devastating loss clutched John's heart.**

**His anguish brought real tears to Sherlock's eyes. Pinching their flow, Sherlock bowed his head and waited.**

**At last, John recovered his voice, released by Sherlock's uncanny empathy and understanding of sacrifice. **

**"****Look, I find it difficult."**

**Sherlock nodded encouragingly. **_Let it out, yes. So you can let it go…and be healed._

**"****I find it difficult, this sort of stuff."**

** "****I know." **

**"****Wheww." John took a deep breath, snapped to attention in a rally of courage and admitted what he had always felt in his heart. "You were the best and the wisest man that I have ever known. Yes. Of course, I forgive you!" **_Forgave you earlier, you jerk, back in the flat at Baker Street when we were safe. But, it's better to say it out loud. That way we can depart as friends before we become "the departed." _

**The tremendous impact of John's forgiveness stunned Sherlock as if the bomb had exploded. For his "last" words, John had chosen to speak of devotion, not rancor, and Sherlock was deeply touched by his friend's unexpected kindness. **_Of course, John believes mere seconds are left. Certainly, he'd bypass the nasty particulars and get to the point, practically and simply!_

**Before he closed his eyes, preparing to die, John saw (for what he believed was the first and now the last time) unmasked affection and appreciation in Sherlock's face. **_Mary would be proud that I overcame my "fear of verbalizing intimacy," as she would call it. _**It gave him great comfort to see his own value reflected in his friend's eyes. Then, he braced himself for the end. **

**And waited.**

**And waited. While waiting, he heard Sherlock weeping, then Sherlock sniffling, then the more familiar sound of chortles, cackles, and laughter**.

**Curious, John opened his eyes.**

**Sherlock was not hysterical from fear. He was laughing at John.**

**Immediately, John glanced at the timer that steadily flickered between 1:29 and 1:28. The clock had stopped moments ago. Sherlock had save them! **

**Sherlock, doubled over with laughter, slapped his knee.**

**"****You…" John snarled.**

**"****Oh, your face!" The smirking detective hooted with amusement and pointed at his bewildered partner.**

**"…****Utter!"**

**"****Your face!"**

**"****You…"**

**"****Totally had you!" The prankster reveled in his hilarity.**

**"****You cock. I knew it! I knew it. You…I…I…" Grinning with giddy relief, John couldn't suppress his laughter, his outrage merely a thin façade.**

**"****You said such sweet things," Sherlock teased with melodramatic tenderness. "I never knew you cared." **_Actually I know you care!_

_Mortifying. That's why I don't tell people how I feel about them!_** "****I will kill you if you ever breathe a word of this to…" **

**"****Scouts Honor!" Sherlock saluted with a laugh.**

**"…****to ANYONE! You KNEW! You knew how to turn it off!"**

**"****There's an off switch." **

**"****What?"**

**"****There's always an off switch." Using a gentle voice, Sherlock tried to calm his friend. "Terrorists can get into all sorts of problems unless there's an off switch."**

**"****So why did you let me go through all that?" **_Not another of your experiments! I'm tired of being your favorite lab rat, eh?_

**"****I didn't lie altogether." As he replied, a litany of answers flashed like lightning in Sherlock's head. **_You'd never admit to forgiving me if you weren't on the brink of death. You're stubborn and would have held the grudge far longer than you should and use it against me far longer than I could stand it. I need you back as my partner free and clear of the baggage—my past misconduct—because I am trying to change for you, even though I'm still obviously very flawed; and true I couldn't resist teasing you ("abusive teasing" you used to call it) at this very vulnerable moment. I actually thought you'd use the last moments to unleash your wrath—purge the festering wound in your Romantic's soul—again I am an awful judge of human nature. Not realizing that the good person you are would skip the ugly and find the beauty in our relationship when time was running out. You can think of it this way: at least you suffered for only two minutes and thirty seconds, not a full two years… Of course, I don't know where to begin to explain all this to you. _

**Under the concealment of teasing, Sherlock refrained from offering his reasons. "…I absolutely have no idea how to turn any of these silly little lights off." **

**John wore a menacing look, unsure if he should let Sherlock get away with another blatantly disingenuous prank. **_If this were one of your experiments to prove how much I missed the thrill of the chase and danger, well, I guess I have to admit I feel happy, now that it's over, and we survived. _**T****orchlights wavering in the tunnel beyond caught John's attention. Official teams were advancing on the tracks, giving John another revelation. **

**"And you DID call the police!" **

**"****Of course I called the police!"**

**"****I'm definitely going to kill you." After experiencing such intense stimulus—like certain death—John's threatening words and belligerent stance belied his actual sense of calm and contentment.**

**"****Oh, please." Sherlock protested gently. "Killing me!" He bowed his head dismissively. "That's so two years ago!" With a playful smile on his face, Sherlock lifted his downcast eyes and gave John an affectionate look that ended, once and for all, the past acrimony between them. **

**And in its place, they shared exhilarating relief and their first hearty laughter in years.**


End file.
